


Don't Bring Me Tomorrow

by soullessbrothers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Humor, M/M, Porn With Plot, Protective Sam Winchester, Sarcasm, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessbrothers/pseuds/soullessbrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens the first Monday after all of Sam's Tuesdays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Bring Me Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> The song is _Magic_ by The Cars. Contains very, very mild dubious consent, which is really just hesitation. Trust me.

Sam jolted awake at the sound of the radio.

_—it’s like a merry-go-round, I see you under the midnight, all shackles and bows, how far will you take it—_

“Rise and shine, Sammy!”

_—well, no one knows—_

He shuddered. Dean buttoned up his shirt and smirked. He bent down to grab one of Sam’s shoes and threw it at him.

“Cut it out, Dean.”

“Thought you couldn’t sleep with peas in your bed, Princess.”

Sam groaned and smacked the radio until it shut off. He dragged himself off the mattress and glanced at the cheap calendar on the motel wall. He hesitated.

“It’s Monday, Sam.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Not looking forward to dealing with your whiny ass tomorrow.”

“You know what, Dean—?!”

He shook his head and muttered a _forget it_ as Dean faced him with a raised eyebrow. Sam quietly dressed, eyes closed so he could listen to his brother’s every movement. The tap squeaked and there was a familiar brush and gargle. Water dripped even after it was turned again. He didn’t know whether Dean was aware of the little hums he made when he shaved. He frowned and tipped his head a little to concentrate on the smaller noises. There was an almost silent scrape. Dean clicked his tongue when he was finished.

“I’m thinking Florida. How’s a beach full of babes sound to you?”

Sam shook his head in disbelief at the voice that rang through. He walked to lean against the doorway.

“Florida? Seriously?”

Dean wiped his mouth. “Why not? Hell, Sammy, I think I deserve it.”

“We’ve got a job to do.”

“I get it, I really do, but, come on. How many times did I die, again?”

“Not funny, man.”

“I never said it was.”

“So why can’t we just get back on it?”

Dean glared. “Because I said so.”

“Because you _said_ so?”

“Yeah. Because I said so.” Dean growled. “Because it’s up to me. Because it’s my decision. Because how about I want a break from the end of the line just to watch the goddamn world turn? Sam, if I want to spend a few days watching gorgeous women in bikinis, I’ll watch gorgeous women in bikinis.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Then you better start believing it.”

Dean snorted and knocked past him to finish packing his bag. Sam clenched his jaw and followed him. He yanked the bag further up the bed to snatch Dean’s attention, but was rewarded only with a fresh snort.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“See? We’re having fun already.”

“No, Dean. We’re not.”

He rolled his eyes. “I get you had a few bad Tuesdays. Lighten up.”

That was it. No more. Sam swept an angry arm forward and threw the bag to the ground. The contents flew across the carpet and Dean widened his eyes at the clatter.

“What the hell?!”

Sam jumped forward and grabbed his shirt with both fists. He dragged Dean forward and ignored the hands that tried to push him back.

“You _died_ , Dean! You don’t know what that was like!”

“Yeah, well, I do. That’s what got us into this mess!”

The hands dropped from Dean’s shirt. Sam took a step back and forced his gaze on the floor to fight tears.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No. No, you’re right.”

“Sam—”

“You’re right. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be okay.”

“Don’t even start with any of that bullshit.”

“You’re _right_. And you say you don’t want to die, but you’re still not taking this seriously. This is my fault and I want to fix it and you won’t let me! I’m not a kid anymore, Dean!”

“It was my choice, Sam.”

“It’s never your choice. You were stuck with me.”

“Do we really need to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Talk about our goddamn feelings like we’re on a rainbow with _My Little Pony_?”

Sam’s nails dug into his palms. Dean glanced down and winced at the white that burned across his knuckles. He sighed and reached out for Sam’s arm, but he pulled away.

“Come on, Sammy.”

“No. No. I’m sacrificing just as much as you, Dean. I’m going to save you.”

The smile was forced and Sam’s expression crumpled. Neither of them could win. Another day was another day lost. Dean stood there for a few more moments before he bent down to pick up the contents of their bag. Sam watched him, fingers thrown back through his hair before he relented. He knelt down, too, eyes on Dean and Dean’s eyes on batteries that had escaped from a dropped torch. His hand patted outwards for them, but they were stopped by Sam’s longer fingers.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

It didn’t matter that they were both on the floor, or surrounded by mess, cobwebs and grime. Sam dragged his knees forward and leaned in to wrap his arms tightly around his brother. He closed his eyes to memorise him. Every second that slipped by was a second closer to being separated.

“You remember that lake, where was it?”

“Which lake?”

“You know. Uh, what were we, like, eight and twelve? With Bobby.”

Dean smiled. “Oh yeah.”

“We skinny-dipped and some drunk stole our clothes or something. And we waited until it got dark before we could run back.”

“Bobby nearly killed me.”

“Yeah, he did.”

“And?”

“And, I don’t know. Simpler times, I guess.”

“We were still hunting monsters.”

“But it was easier.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I remember you covered me up on the run back.”

“What?”

“From the lake.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“You did. You had your hands right over me so no one else would see.”

Sam allowed a small smile at the wrinkle that formed across Dean’s nose. He started to pull away, but Sam held him in place, still in that embrace.

“Starting to get a little gay here, Sammy.”

“With Dad, with Bobby? I mean, yeah, with Bobby it was great. But I always felt safest with you.”

“Getting real _Brokeback Mountain_.”

“You’d lie with me and tease me and tell me stories, remember?”

“Seriously. We’re making the whole goddamn motel uncomfortable.”

“And I can’t do this without you.”

“ _Sam_.”

He stopped. Sam looked up into green and found that his breath hitched. Dean sighed and patted his back. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sam was already there. Dean jolted, but his mouth was warmed and Sam’s eyes were closed. A tongue pressed against his lips and as he started to protest, it slid forward to search for something, anything. Shoulders were pushed away and Sam protested wordlessly.

“Sam, please—”

“Don’t.”

That tongue swept right back into Dean’s mouth and Sam pressed him back against the side of the bed. His arms wrapped back around him until he could almost swallow his heartbeat. He tried. Sam tugged at Dean’s shirt until half of the buttons popped. He wrenched more fabric until he found skin and splayed his palm over Dean’s chest. Dean took a deep breath and Sam broke the kiss to watch as ribs pushed out. Sam swallowed. The rhythm of breath was enough to force the sting of tears. He shook his head, and let his palm stroke down to newly-exposed stomach. His fingertips stroked over the coarse hair, made coarser as he moved lower.

“Sam.”

“No.”

Sam swallowed and unhooked Dean’s belt. The button on his jeans followed, as did the zipper. He searched for heat, the proof of life, and angled his hand between waistband and skin to wrap fingers around hot shaft. Dean jumped.

“I, I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The voice was strained. Nervous. Dean wasn’t nervous. Sam was. But Sam couldn’t think. He murmured over and over that he would find something, he could save him, he really could, but he wasn’t even sure whether that was aloud. He managed to lift Dean’s cock above the layers and gave a stroke, convinced that if he could keep him alive, nothing could stop them.

“Sam, come on, we’re just—”

“ _No_. Please. Dean, please.”

He let go to tug down both jeans and underwear. Dean groaned despite himself, and that was it. Sam crawled over him and grabbed that cock, gave a soft squeeze and jerked like he would jerk himself. The space was too great, and Sam filled it. He kissed again, this time with much more force. He thrust his tongue back into Dean’s mouth and thumbed his sensitive tip. When Dean gasped, Sam gulped it down, saved it, pumped his hand faster and there, there right at Dean’s groan, right at his cock stiffening, that was what he could do, that’s how he could prove he loved him.

When Sam pulled back, Dean’s new lust and confusion washed relief over him. He stood and offered a hand. Dean grabbed his wrist and Sam lifted him, only to push him back onto the bed. Dean didn’t tell him to stop.

“Dean, if you’d, if you’d just, hands and knees? I mean, I need to, and you’re kind of—”

He was half-unsure, but he still held Dean’s shoulder and encouraged a roll to the side. Dean moaned again, and Sam grabbed his hips to lift him into position. Thank fuck the bag was close, that the closed zip opened easily, and that lube from subtle morning masturbation was quickly retrieved. Sam couldn’t stop. He needed Dean’s heat before he burned away and he slicked his fingers, pressed them straight against his brother’s hole.

“God, Dean.”

The noise that Dean made was inhuman.

Sam lubed his thumb and used it to roll circles against him. His heart bucked into his throat when he used his other hand to try prising him apart. Whether it was involuntary or not, Dean clenched and unclenched, and all that Sam could see was that hole tightening around his cock. He scrambled and pushed his thumb into Dean. Those muscles. They drew it further in, but the thumb wasn’t right. Sam retracted it and swapped for his index finger. He slid it slowly into him and oh, yes, Dean moaned, let his ass stick up in place as his front dropped to the bed. A flush burned down his spine and Sam added a second finger inside him. The next time that Dean clenched, Sam pushed against him. He bent his fingers into him, eyes wide when he felt that most intimate part of him. Dean’s legs were spread out enough to see how his cock twitched. He started to rock back into his hand and his cock fucked the air as pre-come escaped the head.

“Sam—!”

That was enough. Sam hurried to use the lube on his own thickness and withdrew his hand to bump his entrance. He whimpered, one hand guiding him to push his head inside. With both of them on their knees, the angle was just off. Sam had to bend over him and then arch backwards to slide further into him. Dean groaned and Sam matched him. The rocks were wrong. Sam had to find the right balance of dragging Dean back and roll himself forward. Dean swore, muttered under his breath and Sam made himself take it slow, apologise, let Dean get used to his size.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I just, I need to—”

“F-fuck, Sam!”

No more words. Sam nodded more to himself than the brother that couldn’t see him, and he ground his hips forward. He shifted position to electrify Dean, he found the spot he had found with his fingers and yes, that was it, Dean bench-pressed up to impale himself backwards. He panted, he swore louder and Sam bucked, Sam held his lower back and was balanced enough to reach under him to find the heat of Dean’s cock and stroked in time. He squeezed when Dean squeezed around him, moaned when Dean moaned and then he truly became his other half, his soulmate, his brother, his everything and he yelped when the shudders reached his stomach, when the sound of skin-on-skin echoed in the room and when he came, when he came, Sam shook and swallowed the burn at the back of his throat. He gave shallow thrusts as he softened, kept them slight to stay inside him. His cry made his fingers curl harder and Dean shouted, he called out his name again.

All that Sam could do was pump his hand harder. He felt Dean shiver and his own body followed at the sound of Dean’s pants. Then there it was, a muffled scream into blankets and mattress as his hand was covered, hot, sticky, and only then did he let himself fully withdraw and drop to the bed. Dean slid his knees down to lie on his front. The wet spot dampened his stomach.

Sam forced his eyes to stay open and his mouth dried.

“I, uh, Dean?”

No answer. Concrete lined his stomach.

“Dean?”

Sam wanted to beg him again, but he was able to relax as soon as he heard Dean’s grumbled snores. He turned on his side and kissed Dean’s exposed shoulder, an arm around his middle.

“Listen, I, uh, thanks.”

Dean had fallen straight to sleep. Sam let his chin rest on Dean’s back and he frowned. If he stayed like this, when they woke, there could be questions and difficult answers. If he moved, he would never feel this close to him again. The thought made him even more determined. He wouldn’t let Dean go to Hell. He’d risk the questions and he’d risk admitting how he really felt. All that Sam needed right now was Dean. And tomorrow? That could wait.


End file.
